House Of Madness
by Bizarre Dreamscapes
Summary: HBP AU Voldemort posseses Harry after the events in the Department of Mysteries and makes him do horrible things. Dumbledore can convince the Ministry that Harry is not guilty and instead of sending him to Azkaban they lock him away in St. Mungo's. HPLV
1. 01 THE CALL

**PLEASE READ. This is my new story. I warn you updates will probably be very infrequent since I intend on finishing my other stories Night Of Fate and Burning Desire as soon as possible. But I just have to get this plot bunny out of my head or I won't be able to write a good chapter for my other fics. I hope you enjoy this story.**

**Warnings: violence, psychical torture, identity problems, character death (minor characters – minor in this fic not necessarily in canon), tragedy!! (this will be sad at times, very much so) and SLASH and dubcon (but not until later in the story)**

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**HOUSE OF MADNESS**

01. THE CALL

If someone has something you do lack of, what do you do to bring about a balance?

Obviously you would take it away from them but what if their special ability was mysterious to you, what if you did not know, could not determine what it was? Because it was something you cannot comprehend, something that is against your very nature, something you do neither even have the ability nor the interest to posses? What if you could never even be able to gain this quality yourself?

What would you do?

Even more so what would you do if your life depended on it? Would you ignore it? Would you rely on your talent, your skill even if this proved to be useless against the unknown factor of the other?

Or would you act? Find a solution?

In order to even things out if you cannot rob the other of their advantage would you rob them of something else, which would, was it lacked, create such an advantage for yourself?

And what if this was not even difficult? What if you already had the means to do it, already had the weapon? If this weapon was in a place it could not be removed from...

Nothing would stand in your way. No one can be protected from themselves.

_Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up..._

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**I know it is not much, but please tell me what you think. I believe the idea to be quiet original... do you agree? Or not?**

**Review please!! I'll answer every review, promise!!**


	2. 02 LOOSING CONTROL

"**speech"**

"**_curses, jinxes, hexes_"**

_**thoughts, visions, dreams**_

**Okay, I realize the first chapter was not really much so I decided to update again quickly so you guys get an idea what the story is about!**

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**HOUSE OF MADNESS**

02. LOOSING CONTROL

The first thing Harry felt when he awoke was an almost unbearable ache in his forehead. He could barely concentrate on keeping his eyes open because his vision switched on and off in a dazzling speed. His stomach was turning from the immense pain he felt. Unable to do anything else he just waited. He had no idea where he was, if he was sitting, lying or hovering, he did not even have an idea how he had gotten in this situation – whatever the situation was – or what had caused him his headache.

The pain started to cease suddenly without any warning. Harry's sight got clearer and the nausea stopped. Where was he? With more consciousness, thoughts came back and Harry almost started to panic. He had been in Privet Drive, had he not? What had happened? He tried to orientate but it was too dark to see much. Either he was inside a room or it was night and he was outside. So Harry concentrated on his other senses.

Something hard was pressing into his back. Harry assumed that he was lying on the floor, the ground was very uncomfortable and much too rough to be anything else than the floor. Strangely Harry noticed that he was holding his wand in his hand... But he had not much time to think about why that was because his other senses also caught up on him.

The ground and his back were unmistakably _wet._ He carefully moved his hand over the floor which was without doubt covered with sticky liquid. But that was not what was troubling him. It was the _stench_ that hang in the air. The sweet, metallic odor of death. It made his stomach twist again but this time in apprehension.

Lifting his wandhand Harry whispered: "_Lumos._"

The light did not blend very much and quickly he was able to perceive his surroundings.

Harry stared up in the night sky. Why was he outside? He had been in his room... in Number 4... How the hell did he end up somewhere else? It was night now, the last thing he remembered was in the evening when it had still been light outside.

Quickly Harry sat up to make out more. He _was _outside on a field. How had he gotten there?

Harry was about to jump up when he reminded himself to stay calm. He looked around again.

This time Harry noticed the blood. It was splattered all around him on the ground, bushes and grass. Harry glanced at himself and saw that he was covered in it as well what explained the sticky quality of the wetness on him and the smell.

Trying not to panic he raised his wand a little higher and stared in the twilight world around him. The blood spread from a center... and there in the was... something...

Harry thought it might have been alive but he could not be sure. He could not look at it any longer.

_What has happened? Why don't I remember anything?_

Then in some distance other sources of light appeared. Voices were streaming over to him.

Quickly the lights came closer to Harry and he realized that he should be moving, that he should be running away because whatever this was, _it was not good._ But this entire situation was so new to him, he hesitated for a moment instead of acting.

And finally the choice was taken away from when the lights had reached him. Harry realized that they were aurors, carrying lit wands.

"Yes, it's him," one of them confirmed lowly. They glanced at the something and there was an uncomfortable shifting among them.

Harry did not know what to do. He was still overwhelmed by the situation.

"Mr. Potter, drop your wand immediately," another one approached him. "You are arrested for murder by usage of a unclassified dark ritual."

They had now risen their wands against him.

"I...," Harry started. He wanted to say he had not done this, but he could not. Because he could not remember if he had done it or not. But it could not be... he did not know any unclassified dark rituals. _Do you remember everything you have done, Harry? _Ginny's voice sounded in his head. Chills ran down his back. Harry nodded towards the aurors and dropped his wand.

Reluctantly one picked it up. Then they seized him by the arms.

They were about to apparate away when one of them motioned to stop.

Hesitantly he turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter... Have you really done this?" he asked calmly.

Harry stared at the man. "I cannot remember," he answered truthfully.

The auror returned his gaze for a few moments then he looked away.

They disapparated.

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**Review please!! I need feedback and I'll answer every review!! And I'll update sooner... the next chapter is already finished and it's about 3k words, so normal chapter length. Chapter 1+2 were more like a first and second prologue.**


	3. 03 VERITASERUM

**HOUSE OF MADNESS**

03. VERITASERUM

The atrium was filled with people. Harry could see Rufus Scrimgeour, the new Minister, Percy Weasley, still junior secretary, much to his displeasure Dolores Umbridge, who had returned to her duty after her most unfortunate encounter with the centaurs and of course Amelia Bones, chairwoman of the Wizengamot.

Everyone was talking simultaneously. Harry felt strangely reminded of last year when he had sat in the same chair he was sitting in now, the same one that had also been occupied by Igor Karkaroff when he had revealed information about the torture of the Longbottoms to save himself from punishment.

Only this time matters were much more serious than last year. This time not even Harry himself could be sure whether he was innocent or guilty. Judged by the looks he received most of the jury had already made their decision on that matter.

"Silence!" Amelia Bones shouted over the chaos of voices, looking serene in her heavy robes, monocle in place.

Almost immediately the atrium fell silent. Everyone looked at her in expectation.

"We have gathered today on a very serious matter," Amelia Bones said in grave tones. "We will pass judgment today on Mr. Harry Potter in the case of the usage of a dark ritual on a muggle citizen in the night of 15th August. First of all I give word to Mr. Gwain Roberts from the Auror Headquarters. Mr. Roberts please inform us about the ritual and Mr. Potter's involvement in it."

Harry saw a broad shouldered, well trained man stand up. It had to be said Gwain Roberts.

"The dark ritual, that was used on the night of August 15th, is a very ancient and rare one. It took us some time to classify it. Does the court allow our expert Ms. Fernandez word?"

"She may speak," said Amelia Bones.

A young, tanned woman stood up. She looked very fragile, almost like a doll, but her eyes had a determined and witty gleam to them.

"The ritual that was used is called _convulsio corporis_. It is as Mr. Roberts said very ancient and was used during the Roman Empire to punish traitors. Based on Mythology _convulsio corporis_ was used to figuratively lay open the treason and crime that had been committed. Crimes were thought to show in the soul which was believed inside the body, according to the principle of dualism. _Convulsio corporis _as the name says turns the insides of the body out. There are several other potions or spells which would have the same effect. Special about _convulsio corporis _is that the ritual is said to show more efficiency on those who are... impure and have sinned."

Many listeners shifted uncomfortably at those words.

Fernandez continued, "The ritual came up during the Great Purges in the Roman Empire. Many wizards considered the uprising Christianity as a threat with its godly magic. They used _convulsio corporis _to 'purify' wizards who had conveyed to Christianity and associated with muggles under the idea of common equality by laying open their sins. We do not know exactly today but it was passed on that the ritual stopped working because it was not only used on the impure anymore. After some time of being out of usage the explicit procedure was forgotten. It is hard to explain how someone knew how to do it. What is striking is the symbolism of _convulsio corporis. _Even though it is in general not used anymore it became a symbol of purification and just punishment due to the believe that it only works on those who have sinned and it is said to have been conveyed by muggles into what they call exorcism."

Fernandez sat down again.

Everyone was still staring at her quite scandalized by what she had said. Harry felt his stomach turn. These words did nothing to calm him down.

"Thank you for this detailed information, Ms. Fernandez," Amelia Bones said after she had composed herself. "Mr. Roberts please."

Roberts nodded. "We have tested Mr. Potters wand with _priori incantatem_." he said. "It is out of doubt that this wand was used to perform _convulsio corporis._"

Again everyone started whispering and Amelia Bones had to call for silence once more.

"Mr. Roberts, do you think it is possible that Mr. Potter was able to perform this ritual?," she asked.

Roberts looked very unsure. "It is hard to tell," he admitted. "Of course, there is always a possibility, although it seems very unlikely to me that Mr. Potter should have known about the ritual plus be able to perform it. On the other hand I see no different explanation at the moment."

"Thank you, Mr. Roberts," Amelia Bones said.

Then she turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter have you or have you not performed the _convulsio corporis _ritual?," she asked him.

This was the moment for Harry to deny everything, to say that he had never heard of this ritual before, that he would not have been able to do it both morally as well as magically. But this was too serious to lie and he could not explain why his wand had been used.

"I don't know," he therefore answered truthfully.

This statement was met by silence.

Then Dolores Umbridge jumped up. "He is lying!" she shouted. "Of course he knows. He has done it and to save his neck he claims not to know!"

"Silence," Amelia Bones chided Umbridge. "Mr. Potter, it seems that you have to explain this further."

Harry sighed. "I don't remember anything from the early evening until when the aurors found me. I don't know what I did or what happened in between."

Amelia Bones did not look convinced. "This does not put you in a exceptionally good light, Mr. Potter."

"You can test me with veritaserum," Harry offered. It was his only chance to make them believe his seemingly far fetched answer.

This time someone else stood up. It was Dumbledore. Harry had not even noticed him before. Maybe he had arrived after Harry? "Harry, do you really think that this is necessary?," he asked.

Harry nodded. "Yes, headmaster," he said seriously. To prove that he told the truth he would take this step. He really did not want to spent the rest of his life in Azkaban.

"Well then, Mr. Potter," Mrs. Bones said. "It shall be done."

Harry swallowed the tiny bit of veritaserum that was given to him without complaint. Unexpectedly he first felt nothing of the effect.

Amelia Bones repeated her question. Again Harry confirmed his answer. He suddenly felt the urge to tell the truth. His mouth practically formed the words without his doing.

The listeners seemed surprised as he told them he did not know again under the influence of the potion. Amelia Bones frowned.

"Mr. Potter, did you have knowledge of the ritual before it was performed?," she asked.

"No," Harry answered immediately.

"The man who was killed is John Meyers. He lived in Little Whining. Did you know him?," Amelia Bones asked.

"No," Harry repeated.

"Do you have any explanation why your wand was used?" Amelia Bones asked. "Did you put it somewhere where it could have been stolen?"

Harry shook his head. "My relatives locked my things in the cupboard under the stairs," he revealed against his will. He did not like to speak about the Dursleys' mistreatment, especially not in the company of complete strangers. "I have no explanation. It must have been searched out on purpose."

Amelia Bones gave him an odd look. Was it pity? "Who knew of the … location of your wand?," she questioned.

"Only my relatives and me," Harry answered.

"Could have someone found out?" she asked.

"Maybe on the day I arrived...," he said. Harry hesitated. _I can see in his head... can he see in mine?_ "Maybe Voldemort."

People gasped in shock.

"How?," Amelia Bones asked flabbergasted.

"Through my mind," Harry whispered. Yet another he had rather kept quite about. He started to regret his request to take veritaserum.

Amelia Bones stared at him. "Do you have any explanation on what might have happened?," she asked finally.

Harry opened his mouth to speak but he could not.

"Stop," someone said. It was Dumbledore. "I think I can explain," he told them. He looked very old all of a sudden.

Amelia Bones had leaned forward in her seat, completely focused on Harry. At Dumbledore's words she straightened again and looked over at the headmaster. She seemed somewhat irritated that he had cut Harry off.

Harry on the other hand was very relieved that Dumbledore had held him off telling about his mind link to Voldemort. It was a very delicate theme and one that would not meet much understanding, Harry knew that. Dumbledore could surely explain it smoother than Harry and maybe Harry would somehow get out of this mess.

He had momentarily considered the possibility that Voldemort had used the mind link to control him before saying it out loud under the influence of veritaserum and now it seemed all the more obvious to him. What he had feared last year had finally come true, Voldemort somehow _could _use his body. He felt tainted and used and he was glad he did not have to talk about it anymore even though the veritaserum would hopefully save him from Azkaban.

"Then enlighten us, professor," said Mrs. Bones, giving Dumbledore permission to speak.

Just like everyone else's, also Harry's attention was now on Dumbledore who briefly glanced in his pupil's direction, infinite sadness in his eyes, before he turned his head to speak to Madam Bones.

"The night when Lord Voldemort" most judges flinched, an expected reaction that Harry barely noticed "tried and failed to kill Harry, the rebounding killing course somehow connected their minds," Dumbledore told the judges carefully. His voice sounded wary, it was the first time Harry saw Dumbledore being insecure, not being confident. It frightened him more than he could have expected.

"Linked their minds?" repeated Amelia Bones. "What do you mean by that?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Last term it showed that this … link is something like a leak in the natural barriers of both Harry's and Lord Voldemort's mind. Sometimes in a state of ease, such as sleep, Harry was able to … slip into Lord Voldemort's mind."

The judges were abashed. Even Dolores Umbridge looked positively overwhelmed. Amelia Bones seemed not fully able to comprehend the words that had just left Dumbledore's mouth and Harry could not get rid of the feeling that all of this was going terribly wrong.

"In turn, Lord Voldemort was able to let Harry see certain things at will," Dumbledore continued, almost hesitatingly. Harry silently prayed that his mentor would stop talking but he knew that they had already told too much to back down now. "And seemingly he is also able … to posses Harry through the link."

Harry closed his eyes. He did not want to see their faces, the condemnation in their eyes. The dead silence told him everything.

Then, Madam Bones voice, very controlled: "Mr. Potter, can you assent Professor Dumbledore's evaluation?"

Veritaserum still in his blood system, Harry nodded his head. "Yes," he whispered, never having wished so desperately to stay calm.

His affirmation was met by more silence.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," said Amelia finally. "Do you have any explanation for this link, how it works, what it is and how it could be closed or destroyed?"

Now Harry looked at Dumbledore again, pleading that the man knew a solution like he always did.

"I do not know what the link is," said Dumbledore now, very determined. "But I believe it can be closed by Occlumency. If Harry would master the art of Occlumency the link would be effectively closed."

Harry's heart sank. He was an absolute looser at Occlumency and Dumbledore knew it. He would never learn it fast enough. In the meantime Voldemort could make him do who knows what. Was it really the only solution Dumbledore had to offer.

"We will take your advice into account, thank you, headmaster," Madam Bones said, then she turned to the other judges. "This case is very complicated since Mr. Potter is technically innocent but still performed the ritual. What do you propose?"

"He should be sent to Azkaban!" exclaimed Umbridge momentarily. "He is unstable and dangerous!"

Some judges nodded their heads in agreement, one of them Percy Weasley, but Harry was relieved to see that the majority seemed hesitant.

Madam Bones frowned deeply. "Since Mr. Potter did not act on his own will I do not consider sending him to Azkaban a proper solution. After all punishment is not in order."

Nods could be seen throughout the room but most acted very careful and their eyes never left Harry like they expected him to run amok and kill off the whole tribunal all of a sudden. Harry glanced down not willing to meet their gazes and especially not Dumbledore's pitying one.

"But you can't just let him return to Hogwarts. If You Know Who really can posses Mr. Potter, it's far too dangerous! Occlumency is very complicated, he is far too young to learn it and even if he should master it, it would take too long," one of the judges objected.

Harry glimpsed at Dumbledore, expecting the man to speak up for him, but Dumbledore sighed as if he had already seen this come.

Amelia Bones hesitated, then she glanced at Dumbledore. "No matter how we decide, it cannot do any harm if Mr. Potter learns Occlumency. Professor, I'm sure you can arrange lessons for Mr. Potter?" she asked Dumbledore.

"Of course, Madam Bones," Dumbledore replied friendly. He appeared somewhat relieved.

Harry noticed that certain judges, such as Umbridge were unhappy about Bones' decision, but they probably did not dare to protest against Dumbledore choosing a teacher since he had helped to prove that Voldemort had indeed returned.

"What about Mr. Potter then?" asked Amelia Bones. She looked sad as she said the next words. "I agree that it is too dangerous to let Mr. Potter return to Hogwarts. Does anyone wish to disagree?"

No one showed any willingness to speak, even Dumbledore was strikingly quiet.

Harry panicked. He had to go back to Hogwarts, to his friends... "Please, Madam Bones, you cannot forbid me to go...," he started but Amelia interrupted him.

"Mr. Potter, please ask yourself, do you really trust yourself to stay in a school full of children in your … condition?" she sighed. "You witnessed closely what can happen."

Harry felt taken aback. She was right. Even last year he had felt the urge to attack Dumbledore... What if Voldemort used him again to kill someone? Harry would never forgive himself. "No ... no, I don't trust myself," he admitted desperately.

"Maybe we should send him to St. Mungo's … they even might find a solution to … to cure Mr. Potter," one of the judges spoke up.

Rufus Scrimgeour nodded. "They would be able to watch over Mr. Potter there, I agree that we must not send him to Azkaban."

More and more judges murmured in agreement and even Madam Bones seemed to be taken with the idea, especially after she had refused Azkaban.

Now Dumbledore stood again. "Do you really think it wise to send the boy to a hospital? Wouldn't it be better to let him stay with trusted guardians, among people he knows and is used to?"

Amelia Bones gave Dumbledore a strained look. "Professor, St. Mungo's is one of the world's most expert hospitals. If someone can help Mr. Potter, it's the healers of St. Mungo's. And I think we all agree that in this dire case the best efforts should be made to avoid further suffering."

Suddenly Dumbledore's face took a haunted, almost guilty expression. "Yes, yes, you're right...," he said in that old, old voice, that made Harry shiver.

"Professor, what...? I don't understand...," Harry said to Dumbledore but the old man only shook his head.

"It's for your best Harry, believe me..."

Even Madam Bones was surprised at Dumbledore's reaction. "Very well then, does anyone object the idea?" she asked.

Umbridge's and a few others' hands went up but not nearly enough to oppose the decision.

Madam Bones looked almost apologetic when she said to Harry, "It is decided then, Mr. Potter. The court sends you to St. Mungo's hospital to ensure your safety and supply you with a proper treatment."

Harry sat there, dumbfounded and watched absentmindedly as the judges started to leave the room.

The aurors which had guided him inside stayed behind and as well did Dumbledore. When they were alone Harry slowly rose from the chair and walked over to Dumbledore. The aurors followed him closely, forming a half circle around him.

Harry gave them an irritated look for being so close to him, which they answered with grim, determined expressions.

He decided to ignore them for the time being and focused his attention on Dumbledore. "Professor, please if you have any explanation... is there really no other way to stop this than learning Occlumency?" he asked.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I fear there is not. I am so terribly sorry, my boy," he said and the sadness in his voice was so honest that Harry's heart cramped in desperation. "I wish things were different and I wish you would not have to go through these hardships. I will do everything in my power to find a solution, I promise, Harry. I never anticipated that this could happen."

Harry swallowed thickly. "That is not very helpful, sir," he said bitterly.

Dumbledore's eyes became suspiciously wet at those words. "I know, my boy, I know. And I will never forgive me for not protecting you enough."

Harry did not want – could not – see Dumbledore cry, the man he expected to be his anchor, so he looked down. "Sir ... what happened to your hand?" he asked in a disturbed voice and took Dumbledore's blackened, dead, right hand in his own.

Dumbledore smiled sadly at him. "The war scars all of us, my boy. But do not worry about me, you are far more important."

"I'm not so sure about that, headmaster," Harry whispered, thinking about the prophecy. How should he fulfill it now? His chances had been ridiculously low before and now... they were close to zero. How should he save his friends and loved ones?

He felt numb and Dumbledore's bittersweet words of comfort did not reach his ears. When the aurors took him away he felt a sting of happiness that was not his own, but made him laugh nonetheless. He almost gagged out of shame and tried to avoid looking at the fearful expressions around him.

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**(1)_ convulsio corporis _is Latin and means convulsion of the body. I thought the ritual up. If you want to use it please contact me per PM. What I said about its origin is far fetched and made up by me.**

**(2) The concept of Dualism actually exists. Dualism means the believe that the mortal body is nothing but a vessel for the immortal soul. If this did not satisfy your curiosity read up on it.**

**(3) As I said this story is going to be sad and I hope this chapter touched you somehow.**

**REVIEW PLEASE and tell me if you liked it or not, what I can do better or what I already did well (if there's anything^^)!!**

**As I said I'll answer every review!! Really.**

**Thanks to emriel for your review!!**


	4. 04 JACKSON HUGHES

**Explanation! Please read! : I will refer to a) Harry, b) Tom and c) Voldemort in this fic, but actually mean only two persons, yet three personas. Harry should be quite clear. Tom means the soulpart of Voldemort that is inside of Harry and Voldemort is Tom Riddle's embodied soulpart. I'm doing this to make the mess of two bodies having three conscious inhabitants easier to grasp. I mean Voldemort and Tom are actually the same person just rip apart and stuck in two different bodies. Strange, eh? Imagine you could go say hi to yourself... lol =)**

**HOUSE OF MADNESS**

04. JACKSON HUGHES

The aurors had not allowed Dumbledore to stay with Harry, ordered by the Minister they said. Harry did not pay them much attention at first, too caught up in his own mind. But soon he began to desire some distraction.

They guided him into a small room close to the atrium, one that Harry had never noticed before. He assumed that it was a room where suspects and criminals were kept before or after trials. The walls were naked and dismal, the only furniture was a long, hard bench lining one side of the square room.

The four aurors who watched over him – Harry hated to think in that terms – were unknown to him. One was very lean and had mousy hair, all he did not look like an auror, rather like an office worker. The second and third looked quite similar, the both had army cut hair and were broad shoulder, perfect opposites of the first one. Their sceptic faces radiated vigilance and determination. The second one frowned darkly when he caught Harry watching him and Harry quickly lowered his gaze.

Normally he was not intimidated by such an action but in the situation he was currently in he felt hyper sensitive to the attention of others. Shame krept up his cheeks in a red, hot blush. The feeling of being dirty was so strong that Harry had a hard time keeping his breathing calm. He craved physical purification, a bath, a shower – anything. Hell, even a bucket of water would have been enough.

But he knew that that would not be enough, it would _not _suffice. Voldemort was _inside _him, in his mind, in his body, maybe even in his soul. Harry wanted him out, he wanted to be alone again, to rip Voldemort's presence out of him, to regurgitate it like something bad he had eaten. Harry felt desperate, it was impossible to escape Voldemort, he was sullied forever and worse than the condemnation others showed him was the condemnation he felt for his very own person, the disgust and shame. He knew it was undeserved, he had never done anything to deserve this.

It tore at his heart to consider how his friends would react to this or would Dumbledore not even tell them? Harry half hoped, half feared that. He would break, his heart would shatter should they turn away from him (and how could they _not_?), yet he would not be able to stand through this without their presence and solace.

He tried to imagine what they would do, what they would say should they find out. Ron pained Harry the most, he could not imagine that Ron would be anything but shocked and frightened. It was almost ironic that Ron who had often envied Harry would probably never be any happier that their places were _not_ swept. At another time Harry might have seen the irony but now infinite sadness was everything he could feel concerning Ron.

Hermione would probably admonish him to learn Occlumency and try to find a solution for his problem in a book. But Harry doubted that there was one, rather he knew that there was _none_, after all who had ever survived the killing curse besides him?

No his state was irreversible. The only chance he had was learning Occlumency. His only hope was have another teacher than Snape this time.

What troubled Harry though was the fact that Voldemort had not used the time he had had in Harry's body to bring Harry to him and kill him. In itself it did not trouble Harry but he thought it rather unexpected of Voldemort. Instead his enemy had performed a complicated ritual that was thought to be extinct. That, in Harry's eyes, left two options: either Voldemort thought he had plenty of time because he could easily posses Harry again or he intended something else. This conclusion had dawned on Harry recently and it filled him with dread.

Normally it was not his way to panic or to be frightened, but his momentary constitution was something that was completely new to him. Of course, he had been threatened by Voldemort before but the heat of the moment had actually never left any time for fear. Now Harry could only wait, while he was endangered by something that was incorporeal and that he obviously had no influence on. He desperately wanted to do something but he could not, because he did not know what to do.

Furthermore, he had killed someone. Although it was not really like _Harry_ had killed anyone, it was still one more person dead _because _of him. His parents, Sirius, Cedric and now some muggle from Little Whining. In the end it was Voldemort who killed them, Harry knew that, but he could not get rid of the feeling that they would still be alive if it were not for him.

The mixture of angst for his friends' reactions, fear of Voldemort and irrational guilt rendered Harry in a state of agonized pre-panic in which he in which he would have loved nothing more than to weep. But he could not. He just could not break down like this. Harry now wished for company and he regretted not having listened more closely to Dumbledore's words of solace before. But just then he had been unable to take in anything.

During the trial Dumbledore had seemed so hopeless. Even in his third year, when Harry had first doubted Dumbledore's ability to set things right, he had not nearly been as lost as he was today.

Dumbledore was broken, Harry knew that and he was not a fool who would delude himself in believing otherwise, _something _had happened that had shaken Dumbledore's confidence to the core.

Dumbledore, who always was so serene, so secure in his power and so determined to do the right thing. Harry knew that the old man was not free of mistakes but he had never seen him as powerless as today. And if the strongest light wizard in Britain, the defeater of Grindelwald, had run out of options, what could Harry possibly do?

His train of tormenting thoughts was ruthlessly interrupted by a folder shoved in his face. He instinctively pulled back and reluctantly took hold of the folder. While doing so he became aware of the hand holding the folder and the person which it belonged to.

He briefly glanced at the face of the unknown, bureaucratic looking man before he returned his attention to the folder.

The silence in the room indicated that some kind of reaction was expected from Harry. Shame that Harry was not interested in the Ministry at all, especially now that he had to deal with his own problems.

"Who's Jackson Hughes?," he asked, referring to the name written on the folder. Not that he was interested, but he hoped that they'd get over with this quickly.

"_You _are Jackson Hughes," answered the man in front of him.

Harry frowned. Sighing, he looked up, catching the man's eyes with his own. "And who are _you_?,"he demanded, sounding even less pleased than he had intended to.

When the aurors suddenly tensed and the man suddenly seemed greatly weary, he realized that one unfriendly word on his part would probably sent them into panic.

For a moment he considered scaring the shit out of them, but he knew that it would not bode well for his health and even worse for his situation.

"I am Pius Thicknesse," answered the bureaucrat, having regained his composure. When Harry showed no sign of recognition he added: "Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement."

Again Harry did not show any kind of reaction to the given information. His constant stare started to unnerve Thicknesse and his patience was wearing thin. The teen could have understood a little reluctance but Thicknesse was feelably nervous. Merlin, what would the man do should Voldemort really possess Harry now? Wet his pants?

He did not try to camouflage his snicker as a cough. They probably thought that he was going insane. And they were probably right. He could not even know if his feelings were his own. It would be so easy to let go...

Thicknesse was now scowling, Harry assumed the man had concluded that Harry was laughing about him. How right he was.

But before Thicknesse could voice his offense Harry waved with the folder. "What's this?," he asked.

His question remained unasnwered for a few moments, in which the head auror stared at him. Harry looked back unimpressedly. Thicknesse's behavior had replaced his former feeling of angst with that of indifference. The only people who truly mattered where his friends and the thought of them tore at his heart, leaving him barely able to concentrate.

"This is your new identity," answered the man finally, sounding a bit annoyed. Harry figured that he had expected a tad more – or better, a lot more – willingness to cooperate. Harry could not care less. He should probably be thankful that he had not been shipped off to Azkaban but too much shit had already happened in his life and this was just too much for him to stay rational.

"You will be registered at St Mungo's as Jackson Hughes."

"Yeah, we can't let the public know that Harry Potter is in a psychiatric clinic, no can we?," he muttered moodily. He was so sick of the Ministry's manipulations. Thicknesse reminded Harry a lot of Percy, he noticed, as he regarded the strict glasses.

The auror tsked disapprovingly, curling his mouth in an unpleasant manner.

"Mr. Potter, I can understand your constant lack of... enthusiasm in the current situation," he claimed, yet Harry did not believe for one moment that he understood _anything_. "But I shouldn't need to remind you that this is to your own good as well. What do you think would happen to your reputation if people knew you have been possessed by him-who-must-not-be-named?"

Harry knew from his own experience that Thicknesse was right. If word of what happened would get out, he would probably become the most hated person in the whole country. Still he hated the fact that this was used against him.

Thicknesse conducted from Harry's silence and darkening glare that the boy had very well comprehended.

"You see, it is in your best interest to cooperate with the Ministry. We only aim to handle this problem as smoothly as possible."

Harry nodded his head unwillingly. He did not like this very much but neither was he desperate to be exposed to the public's blame. He had already had enough of that. But this also showed him that the Ministry had not changed a iota since Scrimgeour became Minister. They were still keen on covering problems up rather than solving them.

"And what's going to happen now?," he asked, his voice controlled.

Although he had no rational object against his cover identity, he was still most upset. His willingness to talk to Thicknesse decreased every second, his thoughts returning to Ron and Hermione. Harry wondered if this angry impatience was an after effect of being possessed by Voldemort or if his enemy was manipulating him again. Or maybe he was loosing his sanity over all this mess.

Thicknesse gave a satisfied hum at Harry's acceptance and proceeded to explain.

"As I said, you will registered at St Mungo's as Jackson Hughes. I suggest you get a bit accommodated with your new identity. You find all facts in this folder." He gestured to the folder Harry was still holding. "Only the healers treating you will know the truth in order to find a … cure. We are updating qualified healers on your situation right now. As soon as everything is settled you will be moved to St Mungo's."

"If Jackson Hughes is at St Mungo's... where is Harry Potter?," was everything Harry answered. Did they want to send an impostor to Hogwarts? Like the fake Moody? The idea of a false self going to Hogwarts infuriated Harry.

Again Thicknesse made a face.

"What? Are my questions too uncomfortable for you, Mr. Thicknesse?," asked Harry, raising his eyebrows. He thought his voice sounded strange.

"Not at all, Mr. Potter," answered Thicknesse, his annoyance now obvious.

_What a bad actor,_ thought Harry.

"We are contemplating this. Dumbledore suggested to claim that you have been pulled out of school for special training."

"He – _what_!," Harry almost shouted. He jumped from his seat, now standing roughly a centimeter away from Thicknesse. Totally surprised by this fast reaction and the sudden anger on his face, the man actually took a step back. The other aurors seized their wands. Harry gaped, even forgetting his fury for a second. Thicknesse had taken a step back? What kind of head auror was he? Damn, was there _anyone_ competent left since Moody had retired?

"We are so going to loose this war," stated Harry incredulously. This once again caused Thicknesse to want to voice his offense but mentioning the war had snapped Harry out of his delirium.

"Dumbledore suggested – are you _stupid_? Why are you even considering this? You want to tell people that I am preparing to fight Voldemort when I'm less capable than ever of doing so? How do you think is this going to work out? And did it at least _cross your mind_ that Voldemort knows exactly what happened? What are you thinking? That he will keep quite in favor of _me_?"

"You should leave this to the Ministry, Mr. Potter," insisted Thicknesse. "We have a great deal more control over this situation than you assume."

"To be at least a bit of control it must be _a lot _more than I assume," answered Harry snidely. He was almost shocked, where did this aggression come from? He himself did not have a better solution, but he did not care, did not care for their feeble arguments, for their goddamn logic, he wanted them to make it _go away_, for fuck's sake.

"Mr. Potter," Thicknesse was now angry, very much so. He advanced menacingly on Harry, snapping: "You's better be glad that you have not been send to Azkaban. Or killed instantly to guaranty everyone's safety. Is it that what you wanted?"

No, of course not. "I don't think you understand at all... Voldemort _intended_ something with this... whatever you do you are probably helping him!" spat Harry, pressing his hands against the wall behind him. Was there a door? Get away, he wanted to be. Away.

"You Know Who is a madman! He does not think like we do!" shouted the head auror, forcing himself a step back, since he had backed Harry rather inappropriately against the wall.

Harry's sweaty hands smeared over the raw wall behind him, grasping, searching. He was about to retort when his mind fell prey to strong, overwhelming fatigue or what it was...

"So every time you don't understand someone you call them insane?" asked Tom. Thicknesse had obviously noticed some kind of change in the teen in front of him, maybe the more relaxed posture, the now still hands or the sudden unfazed coldness in his eyes.

Tom cocked his head to the side and smiled ever so slightly, snapping his fingers in front of the man's eyes, who stared unblinkingly, thinking, in order to provoke a response.

The head auror reacted instantly, flinching, his eyes, fearful and weary, caught in the dilemma of fight-or-flight.

"Stupor!" screamed the mousy auror, swinging his arm as if he was wielding a sledgehammer instead of a wand.

_He really looks ridiculous, pathetic,_ thought Tom, as his – or better Harry's – head slammed into the wall behind him. And _Potter has such a nice body_, he thought.

* * *

"Mr. Potter."

Harry groaned. What had happened now? The last thing he remembered was... Thicknesse. The auror, they had had a disagreement. Where was he now?

He opened his eyes blinking, there was a light shining right in his face. He felt a foreboding familiarity of waking up in an unknown place … had he been possessed again?

Feeling slight panic, he sat up hurriedly, ignoring the spinning sensation in his head, trying to accommodate his eyes to the light.

"Where am I? What has happened?," he asked, his voice sounding a tad to high, betraying his fear.

He felt well known sheets against his skin, a bed, he knew it from the hospital wing.

"You're at St Mungo's. Please calm down, I assure you, all is well,"said a man, Harry now could see. The man had to be in his late thirties or early forties. He had a friendly, yet intelligent face, short blondish hair and a slightly wrinkled forehead like he spent a lot time thinking. He wore a white healer attire and had a small sign addicted to it that read: _Vincent Cohan_, _healer_.

"All is well?," laughed Harry in a incredulous, desperate fashion. The room was white, the bed was white, he was dressed in white, hell, _everything_ was white.

His bed was the only one in the room. Besides there was not much furniture. A night stand, a few chairs, a sink and a mirror, if that qualified as furniture. He was reminded of a room in one of those psychiatry-muggle-horror-movies – just great.

Cohan smiled a little. "As well as it can be. What I meant is: there is no momentary cause for agitation. By the way, I am Healer Vincent Cohan, healer. I will be treating you."

"Yeah, so I saw," Harry nodded to the sign on his shirt as he shook the doctor's hand. "How did I get here? I don't remember."

Now the healer seemed a bit embarrassed. "The, erm, aurors obviously saw the necessity to stupefy you."

What? "Why?," asked Harry, indignantly.

"They admitted in retrospect that their reaction might have been overcast. They noticed a irregularity in your behavior and one of them felt threatened by it and decided to shock you to be safe," admitted Healer Cohan, while he watched Harry interestedly, yes, almost in fascination.

Harry did not like that very much. But if this man should help he would probably have to be observant and examining.

"To be safe," he repeated sourly. Gesturing around, "seems you have only forgotten a straitjacket."

Cohan looked confused. "A what? Are you cold?"

Harry sniggered, despite the whole situation being not funny at all. "Forget it, doctor, it's a muggle invention..."

"Well, erm, yes. I would like to use the opportunity to make you acquainted with our other healer treating you."

Like she had waited for the command, a young woman who seemed to be in her early twenties entered the room. She looked nice enough, with short brown hair and big, curious eyes. She smiled wearily, extreme nervousness written across her features.

"Hi, I'm Caren, Caren Trent. I'm a psychiatrist and mind healer. I will help you to cope with your inner turmoil," she said rapidly, sounding a bit like Hermione when she quoted from a book. But Caren's shy smile seemed honest.

_A psychiatrist. I'm fine, I'm not a nutter, I won't break under this, I refuse to, I don't need a psychiatrist. t_hought Harry, albeit knowing that he was probably in denial.

They shook hands, and Harry nodded but could not bring himself to smile.

"So you will both be treating me?," Harry asked to clarify and to break the silence.

Healer Cohan nodded. "We are consulting with a few other healers as well on this matter, but we believe that it would be best if you only came in contact with the two of us, to build a relationship that is more trustful and familiar for you."

"And to put less of you in danger," concluded Harry, not being fooled by any nice words, maybe he knew this tour too well from Dumbledore.

"I will not deny it," said Cohan openly, obviously deciding to be completely honest to him, maybe in order to calm him down. "Yet, I have to admit, I hadn't expected you to be so..."

"Realistic, doctor?," offered Harry.

"Calculating."

Caren Trent and Cohan exchanged a brief glance which held a deeper meaning.

Harry shrugged. "Although I've never been accused of being _calculating_-" _apart from when I put on the sorting hat, that is "_- there's no need to sugarcoat things for me."

"Then I want to be completely honest with you," started Cohan. "The Ministry instructed me to give you a magic suppression potion, they would have even favored something like _mors interna _which I would strongly disadvice-"

"Magic suppression potion?," asked Harry, baffled. He had never even heard of that. Then again, he had never really listened to Snape after their first period together.

"Yes, there are potions that suppress magic. They are mostly used with patients who have lost control over their magic due to a traumatic experience or a strong psychosis. They work similar to a drug, by blocking certain synapses in the cerebrum, it gets difficult to muster the required concentration to perform magic. _Mors interna_ is the strongest known magic suppressor and puts the subjected into a nearly comatose state. The name of the potion means inner death." Cohan explained, watching his words sink in.

"However, we decided against such an approach. We think it wiser to watch you closely at first for certain symptoms or situations of weakness that would allow or ease... a possession. I am not and neither is anyone here really experienced with that kind of mind magic, therefor we need to examine this without any influences. Should it be necessary though we will have to inject you with the magic suppressor."

"I understand," nodded Harry. He was silent at first, but then decided to speak up too. "Doctor, you see... I understand where you are coming from, but normally I would not support your approach."

Both healers looked surprised, they had probably thought that he would be glad not to have magic suppressors injected.

"In fact I would say your approach was suicidal," he gave them a pointed look, making them shift uncomfortably as though they were about to realize that, too. "Unless, I thought that it was unlikely for something bad to happen. At least at first."

"You seem very sure of that," remarked Caren Trent carefully.

"I think that up to now this is what Voldemort had planned. It would actually surprise me if it wasn't."

They did not miss out on the obligatory flinch.

"Do you really think so?," asked the healer.

"Yes," answered Harry simply. "I figured it might help if you knew."

They nodded. "Thank you for your trust in us. We hope to find a solution as soon as we can," said Cohan. "We will leave you now for the night – oh, and we were informed that a Mr. Weasley and a Ms. Granger were to visit you tomorrow morning."

"Thank you," Harry didn't really hear himself.

"Good night, Mr. Potter."

Ron and Hermione. They would really come to see him after this. He suddenly felt tired to the death. Why, just why did his heart be so painfully fast?

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed! This was more of a filler chapter really, but necessary to set the stage up. =)**

**Next chapter will have Ron and Hermione... and a bit more. Poor Harry.**

**PLEASE REVIEW if you want to support and help me. Or flame me, er...**


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